Rewrite
by Carmelle
Summary: Guilt. Lie. Truth. Fear. All of this goes through her mind as she looks him right in the eyes. Nothing is wrong. "It's nothing." Katniss lies to Peeta on the train, never revealing that it was an act. Catching Fire AU. Rewrite of a few important pieces of dialogue. Rated M. Everlark.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Rated M! Possible one shot, tell me what you think I should do._

_Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games Trilogy._

_Summary: Guilt. Lie. Truth. Fear. All of this goes through her mind as she looks him right in the eyes. Nothing is wrong. "Nothing." Katniss lies to Peeta on the train, never revealing that it was an act. Catching Fire AU. Katniss isn't a super bitch at the end of The Hunger Games. :-) Rewrite of a few important pieces of dialogue._

_Follow, favorite, review…_

_-RC_

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><p>"<em>Great job, you two. Just keep it up in the district until the cameras are gone. We should be okay." I watch him head back to the train, avoiding Peeta's eyes.<em>

"_What's he mean?" Peeta asks me._

* * *

><p>Maybe it was his face.<p>

Yeah, that's what it was.

He looked so confused, so worried. And I don't know what came over me when I said it but I did. "_Nothing." _I was lying but a part of me couldn't bear the thought of facing the world without his smile.

It was just a debt. _That's all._

"_What are you talking about? He obviously meant something by it Katniss."_ He said, looking at me incredulously.

I felt bad. None of it was real. But I just couldn't break his heart.

"_Nothing. He-" _I took a deep breath and looked him directly. I expected my usual jittery speech whenever I lied. It didn't come. Surprisingly it came out smooth, sounding surprisingly truthful. "_He's drunk. Don't worry. Nothing's wrong. Let's just head back inside. _Please_."_

I'm assuming that's when the seed planted in his head. He followed me back onto the train looking unconvinced. But I think he finally let it go when the car began to drive again and I firmly planted my lips on his, a 'good night'. He smiled against me and let go before kissing the top of my head. It was so genuine that by the time he turned away and headed back into his compartment leaving me alone, I felt suffocated by the guilt. I laid back, knees bent above the bed, and placed my hands on my forehead. I breathed deeply, attempting the even out my rapid breaths but it was of no use. Why did I do it?

* * *

><p>My mother sits across from me, throwing Peeta and I curious looks as I stare off into space, ignoring the people who sit at our dinner table. Prim prattles on happily as she recounts her day at school to Peeta. He put up with her, seemingly very interested. Although, by now, I shouldn't expect anything less. In fact, he probably <em>is<em> interested.

I notice Haymitch's pointed stare at our interlocked hands, like I have been the past two months. He never says anything to me- to us- but I know he's surprised- probably as much as me- by my actions. He looks at me sometimes with his eyebrow scrunched in thought. Even when I send him a scowl, his expression never changes. He's confused, lost in thought I guess.

I don't even realize when he leaves, lost in a memory- a very particular memory that I can't get out of my head.

His eyes shine when he smiles. It distracts me sometimes. I see Prim in him. _Maybe that's why I couldn't hurt him. _He is still in the animated conversation with Prim. I always get strange feeling when I see him like this. It's like an ache. And when he looks at me, full of love and adoration, I can't help but wonder if this is the way my father looked at my mother. He is too good for me, and I can't hurt him. I wish no one ever could.

It's weird to feel so protective over someone other than Prim. Okay, so maybe I don't love him the way he loves me, but I feel about him the same way I feel about Prim- brotherly… but that's not right either… it's _different_. When we all get up to wish Peeta goodbye as well, he pats Prim on the head- brotherly. He give my mother a quick hug- like a son. And then I walk across the lot to his door and he embraces me. Okay, I could get used to this. But of course, something tugs at me when he releases my form.

It isn't until I feel the cool air emitting from his house, that it occurs to me. So I tug his arm back to me and stand on my tip toes, face to face. I grab his jaw and lean against him, before finally bringing us together. His lips are velvet and his hand on my hips are firm. It was usually like this. Nothing too far. I'm sure he does this mostly for my sake, but I'm grateful nonetheless. His hands never roam. He just makes me feel safe.

Definitely not brotherly though.

* * *

><p>It took a week or so for me to get used to my bow again. The polish left me without my calluses. My finger are soft again and it's a curious feeling. I'd been so long since my hands were like this. I bothers me, definitely. But part of me is glad not to have some particular scars. Sometimes, when I'm out in the woods at night, alone, staring at the stars, I feel as if they've stipped me of my identity. They've stripped the woods from my body. Other times, when holding Peeta's hand, or looking at Prim, I think it's the most empathetic thing The Capitol has ever done. I think of Clove, how it felt as the blood leaked out of my forehead and how lightheaded I'd been. How nauseous. How angry she was. How frightened we were. How I thought both me and Peeta were going to die in that second.<p>

It wasn't something I like to think about.

And I didn't really want a physical reminder.

Of course, as grateful as I am for the polish, it couldn't remove the emotional scars, which may have been part of the torture of it all. I see Rue in my dreams at night. Even if it is a calm one, which I get on occasion, that doesn't change the fact that just the thought of the girl causes a lurch in my stomach.

My hands shake as I sit down. I ran all the way out here from my room and yet I have no recollection of the journey. I could remember my dream, and it wasn't pretty.

_I was surrounded by black, yet I could see my reflection in the mirror that stood before me. No light emitted around me yet my face was covered in an eerie red light. My nude form stood before me and my protruding ribs glared at me. The scars all came back. The most noticeable on my thigh. The ugly gash, forever a lighter pink color than the rest of my tan skin, caught my attention. I remember the hurt, the blood. _

_Before I know it, an angelic blue light replaces the red. A searing white hot pain seeps to the bone and the blue is soon replaced with white. My thigh, now purified, is gleaming perfection._

_It continues on like this, I remember how and where I go the scar, the pain comes, the blue, and then the white. It isn't the worst nightmare I've ever had, it only gets demented when I see Peeta beside me, his hands reach out and trail my skin. It's not necessarily sexual, but I flush anyway and my body reacts. I moan._

_Somehow, we end up on his bed, the pale blue cover clumped at the foot of the bed and my bare back against his white sheets. _

'_You're perfect for me now.'_

_It's faint and it echoes all around us as he litters me with kisses. I never imagined what he looks like naked, but the body before me is practical, well muscled, but not over the top. I pant, my breath coming out in ragged gasps as he touches all over my body, ignoring the one place I really need him. It feels like an eternity before his lips trail from my neck and begin lavishing my breasts, His mouth is warm and wet as it latches onto my nipple. My back arches up and I sigh contentedly. The groan he gives in return settles deep within me and soon I'm on the verge of begging him to take, the make me feel again._

_But when he lazily gazes at me- the love in his eyes- I flip us over and take control. I refuse to look at his face again. I use him. His unyielding giving. And I just take, take, take. When I grab him in my hand, I lead him into me and gasp. It feels good, and my copious arousal eases him into me easily. It overtakes my senses and as I rock my hips against him, my moans fill the room. _

_He fills me up with pleasure. I really want it._

_I want him._

_He grabs my waist and he moves us to the other side of his king bed. The cool fabric adds to my pleasure and his thrusts begin to become rough. His fingers dig into my skin, and he groans. _

_In and out. _

_In and out._

_My nails scratch down his back as he hits that one spot, I cry out. _

_His groans get louder and I clench around him. He begins to grind against me, hitting just above… and oh! God, if feels amazing._

_He soon grunts and spills inside me. _

And now, I'm even more confused.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hey guys! Next chap! So, this either will only a few chapters or an actual story I'll be working on. So, I just wanted to say, this concept came to me and I hope none of you have ever seen it before. That's what I'm going for. This is something new for me because I have never made any of the plots in my stories remotely canon. Please tell me if you think any of the characters feel OOC. And give me explanation and suggestions. I'd love to fix any mistakes._

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games Trilogy._

_Summary: __Guilt. Lie. Truth. Fear. All of this goes through her mind as she looks him right in the eyes. Nothing is wrong. "Nothing." Katniss lies to Peeta on the train, never revealing that it was an act. Catching Fire AU. Rewrite of a few important pieces of dialogue._

_Follow, favorite, review... _

_-RC_

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><p>He notices immediately. He notices the way I shy away from him. He notices the way I stare at him, lost in thought, until he turns to me and I avert my gaze. He notices how I always flush soon after we kiss. And- maybe I'm just imagining things- but I swear that I catch a glimpse of a smile adorning his lips sometimes.<p>

_Like he knows._

It freaks me out sometimes. Like he's going to bring it up to me one night when we're alone. Like we are now.

His hand is lazily draped across my waist as we lay together in front of his fireplace. And I feel the warmth against my back. It blazes. My shadow splays over his form, but I'm so small that it could never cover him entirely. One half of his face is covered in darkness, while the other shines bright under the orange hue. He smiles and I gently close my eyes, all thoughts on hold. I nudge closer and for a few moments, I'm content.

It's late and Prim and Mother will worry. But they know I'm over here, so if they really need me back, they can come get me. I wrap a hand around him and burrow into his neck. I breathe against him and gently lull into slumber.

My dreams eventually come back to the same question. _Why'd I lie? _It occurs to me that maybe I was just being selfish, because being in his arms feels so good. So safe. He makes me feel… nice. It's easier to think ill of myself than to think good of myself.

Being in his arms comforts me.

He puts his arms around me and if feels like home.

But I could never admit that out loud.

* * *

><p>When I wake I'm no longer swaddled in in the light warmth. Instead, I find myself in darkness. I sit up slowly, and take in my cold surroundings. It only when I take in the pale morning light that I freeze. The blue. The blue sheets that surround me bring back rushing memories of skin on skin and pleasure that makes my body shudder and dampen my underwear.<p>

I'm in his _bed_.

I look around the room, it's somewhat dark, but it seems as though the sun has just begun to climb up the horizon. I yawn and step out of the covers, easing onto the cold hard wood flooring. It squeaks in protest as I put all of my weight on it. I exit his bedroom, leaving _that _feeling behind. I explore the long hallway, looking for him with no success.

As I near the last door, the smell of paint hits me. I find the door cracked open a smidge. With a small push, it opens and reveals all the splatters and colors and messes. All along the walls, paint adorns the surface. It comes in a variety but I notice how much of it is red. I can only imagine what he does with that shade. He has a lot of material.

He's in there, asleep on the small sofa that decorated the once white room. He sighs softly with each exhale, and I just stand in the doorway- watching him. I smile and begin circling the room and looking at his paintings. He never lets me into this room. I'm not sure why. He's amazing. Even they are of something horrid, he has made each scene beautiful.

He focuses on the details of each scene. But not the bad ones. The soft, innocent ones.

I see myself in our cave, the puddle of my blood isn't what he put most thought into. It's obvious. It's how he depicted the moss, how he draws my eye. It's almost as if he puts all of that blood and gore on the back burner, and he pretends that all is fine and well, that he can focus on nature in what seems like a dire moment. When I was pointing my arrow at him in the final moments of the arena, he focuses on my hair and the tears brimming my eye line. Not my bandaged head, or my distraught look.

He's even an optimist in his art.

I'm not prepared when I come across _the memory_. My loose wave flow in the warm summer breeze as I look at him. Haymitch is in the background, walking away. And I see panic. On my own face. Panic that he caught on to. Panic from what was just said. Panic looking at him, looking for his reaction. He saw my momentary lapse and captured it on canvas. I scrunch my eyebrows and look at the ground.

His groggy words startle me and I quickly turn around, "You're not supposed to be in here." He says it like he's reminding himself more than telling me. He rubs his eyes and truly awakens. He gets up and walks toward me, taking in my expression. He glances behind me at the scene he painted and looks me in the eye once again. He keeps on an unreadable face, and comes closer. His presence affects me and I meet him in the middle, supporting myself against his sturdy chest. He brings his face to my ear, trailing kisses up to my jaw. I sigh pleasurably and close my eyes. When I feel his lips against my ear I shudder, "Something feels wrong about this picture. Doesn't it?" he asks me in a whisper, pulling me closer to him with a hand at my lower back. He draws back into my eyesight and gazes at me intently. I shake my head quickly, telling him no. He smirks and releases me. "Okay." He says, with just a note of disbelief.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing, Sweetheart?" Haymitch startles me from my reverie. He looks worried and it isn't his usual sarcastic guidance. He's actually wondering.<p>

I inhale and exhale slowly before responding, "I'm not sure." He sits beside me against the tall oak tree that stands tall in the meadow. "I don't know why I lied to him. I don't know what I'm doing. It's been 5 months and I'm nothing but confused."

"Are you sure you lied?"

I turn on him with sharp eye, "What?" I breathe.

"I'm just saying that I'm probably not the only one who's noticed the way you've been eyeing the boy lately." I looked at him, mortified.

"What?" I ask again, standing quickly and looking down at him, my mouth agape and my eyebrows scrunched together. My cheeks are aflame and he just laughs.

"What do you _feel_?"

I don't know.

_It wasn't all for the games._


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Hola, mi amigos! How's your day? Merry late Christmas! _

_Give me your thoughts, I'd love to hear them!_

_Please read some of my other stories, but forewarning, they're all AU._

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games Trilogy._

_Summary: __Guilt. Lie. Truth. Fear. All of this goes through her mind as she looks him right in the eyes. Nothing is wrong. "Nothing." Katniss lies to Peeta on the train, never revealing that it was an act. Catching Fire AU. Rewrite of a few important pieces of dialogue._

_Follow, favorite, review... _

_-RC_

* * *

><p>I wake with a start, my heart thumping in my chest. His screams echo in my ears. His pleas are forever etched into my memory. I gasp when someone knocks urgently against my door. "Katniss?" Prim's hurried voice asks.<p>

I inhale shakily and swing my legs over the side of my bed before making my way to the door. I unlock it and look at Prim. I don't even have to imagine her expression when she takes in my appearance. Her eyes widen in worry as she tightly wraps her small arms around my torso. "Yes?" I respond softly, questioning.

"You- you were screaming- yelling Peeta's name." She looks me directly in the eye and asks seriously, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Prim." I dismiss, "Go to back to bed." She nods, looking away, and I hear the shuffling of her feet all down the hall. After her door clicks shut, I hop up and quickly throw on my father's hunting jacket and some new soft boots that Effie had shipped me from the Capitol. I gently make my way down stairs, my tread light and cautious. It's when I see the light on in his window that I finally start to breathe again. I run to his door, my mind a whirlwind of activity. I don't bother knocking, I just try to find him as fast as I can. I run to the first place I can think of and sadly, he's alerted to my presence. His head whips around, and when he sees me, he immediately gathers my body in his arms.

"Katniss?" He whispers after some moments. I nod into his chest, my eyes shut tightly, grounding myself to him tightly. "Katniss." He says again, separating us and trying to get me to look at him. "Look at me." He states, no question in his tone. I obey. He wipes the tears from my face and holds my jaw in his hands. "What are you doing here? It's so late."

My eyes widen in horror as I realize that I just barged into his home, no explanation. "Oh, god, Peeta! I'm so sor- sorry." I stutter out, moving away from him and exiting the room.

I turn at the sound of his laugh and he struggles up from his bed, no prosthetic on his leg. "No, no, I didn't mean you should go. I thought you'd know by now that you're always welcome here, no matter what." His smile gets to me, and what ever goes through my head clouds it, because I blurt it out, no restraint. But I obviously immediately regret it when my hand comes up to my mouth and my eyes widen in horror and panic. "What?" He asks, but it's obvious he know what I'm talking about. In fact, I'm certain he figured it out weeks ago.

"Nothing." I try to take back the words, try to reverse what I've just done. Six months and somehow I've managed to ruin it _today_.

"Katniss, you can't do this again." He's baiting me. He knows, he's always known but he wants me to admit it. "Haymitch did mean something, but I want you to tell me. Be honest for once Katniss." His words cut into me deeply. He doesn't say it in anger or frustration, he just wants me to be simple.

I look down, trying to will myself away from here, or at least make him stop asking questions. It's of no use of course, "Please, stop." My voice comes out quiet and delicate and I'm sure it takes all of his willpower to not rush over and tell me everything's alright. "I don't know, Peeta."

He nods and when I back away this time, he doesn't stop me.

* * *

><p>'Haymitch wasn't just drunk.'<p>

'_Haymitch wasn't just drunk.'_

_Idiot!_

My feet curl beneath me and my head pounds. _Why_? I cradle my sore face in my hands, trying to let the noises around me calm my beating heart. My shivers are of no help either. My bare legs have goose bumps all along them and I remember, once again, that on my hurry out, I didn't put on the adequate attire. The tall trees that surround me block out the rising sun, but I don't bother moving. Mother and Prim will make do without me for another hour.

I deserve this. It's not like this wouldn't have happened eventually, I just didn't want it to happen _today_.

The bark feels rough against my hands as I grip the tree for stability. My head feels crowded and I try to tune out my racing thoughts but it's of no use. I seem to make this a pastime of mine now. Berating myself, all those words eating away at me.

Peeta's mother, '_Seam trash… whore… slut… she's just using him for money… she doesn't love him… I expected her to dump him as soon as they got out of the arena… she's filthy… just like her mother… cheater… she's probably never been _honest _with him… running around with that Hawthorne boy… She's probably fucking both of them... Two timer… _Liar… _She doesn't deserve any child of mine…'_

Honest.

_Honesty_.

Liar.

_Lying_.

Dirty.

I _feel_ dirty.

Filthy.

I _feel_ filthy.

Cheater.

I _feel_ like a cheater.

Trash.

I _feel_ like trash.

Slut.

I _feel_ like a slut.

Whore.

I _feel_ like a whore.

I _don't_ deserve him.

And as much as I try to make the words go away, they _don't_.

And as much as I try to block out his mother, I _can't_.

So, I decide alone time might not be the best for me, and I run back home, words lying heavily on my chest.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Hey GUYS! Happy New Year! Anywhoo, new chapter. I'm kinda surprised at the attention this story is getting. It makes me very happy. Of course, this is the first story that is set in THG universe and not modern day or something, so that makes some sense. I'd like to thank all of you and yes, the chapters are short, but I hope that's okay for now. I can't really write long chapters without getting bored._

_Also, can someone PM me on how I can get a beta. I have no idea how, or if you know one that wants a new author._

_Please, please, please review. I LOVE feedback. Even if it's critical._

_-RC_

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><p>I hold his hand in mine, relish in his touch. He hasn't really spoken to me since that night. I'm almost glad, but being without him after all this time together feels strange. I pass off the small package to the next family. I smile, having a genuinely happy time. He's enjoying himself, it seems, just as much. A little Seam girl runs up to us, all giggles and he picks her up graciously. They begin to talk and his warm steady voice tells her what's in each parcel, what we're giving their family. She nods quickly before peeking through the bag. He soon sets her back down, his hands holding hers. When she noticeably shivers, he begins shuffling, and I stare at him curiously. He quickly unwraps the fur scarf from around his neck and secures it around her slim shoulders. In that moment, he seems just like the kind 16 year old boy he is. Young, full of life and kindness. His hand messes with her hair after he stands up and soon she sprinting away, her face alight.<p>

Afterwards, as we make our way home, silence surrounding us, I cross my arms over my chest for warmth. The night is cold and I can see my breath. If there weren't such tension between us, I'd be holding his hand, wrapping my body against his. I make a split second decision when we're a still a few minutes away from The Village.

I grab his arm roughly, and backtrack into Town. He begins to protest but I shush him, after that, he doesn't protest. I stop through the snow passed Town but before The Seam. As my breaths become heavier, I speed up, hoping to get there sooner.

"Katniss…" He sighs when we come upon the great willow that stands in The Meadow, it's branches baren this winter. I stand under it and tug him toward me. He's surprised- to say the least- when I take his face in my hands and press my lips against his. He's cold but it's only a moment before he's responding to my kiss and we're both warming up. I laugh and we continue on like this for longer than I like to admit, but he just feels so good. His laugh resounds deep in his chest when we break apart. "Katniss." He repeats with a grin.

"Sorry." I giggle, and then sniff due to the cold air, "I just…" I trail off, trying to remember why I brought him out here.

"Do you want to eat dinner with my family?" He asks out of the blue and I nod quickly, just wanting to stay in his presence for longer. "I to come by one of these nights before we leave and I like for you join me."

"Of course." I sigh blissfully.

"You technically put me behind time wise on preparing the food."

I laugh and just shrug my shoulders, "Whoops!"

I run by the house quickly to tell Prim and my mother that I'd be out tonight but then, I'm all his. I take off my jacket when I step in, the fireplace running. The warmth envelopes my bare arm and I shiver at the sudden change of temperature. He kiss me a peck on the cheek and I blush. He soon tugs my arm into the kitchen. He hands me a knife and winks, "I learned my lesson last time." He quips and I 'punch' his arm.

"Hey!" I protest. "It's not my fault, I assumed if it was on high, it'd cook faster. I didn't think it'd burn." We fill the kitchen with laughter and warmth, and it's the happiest I've probably been since… I don't even know. I feel like a kid again.

As the pasta boils, the bread bakes, and the tomatoes simmer, we somehow get into a flour fight and we're a complete mess. So when the doorbell rings, we both jump, eyes wide. We both totally forgot his family was coming over. He quickly goes to greet him and I attempt to fix my appearance some. When I walk out into the living room, all eyes turn to me. I give a small smile and ignore the piercing glare Mrs. Mellark gives me. His brothers swarm me, hugging me and joking about my appearance. Graham's wife stands back, toward Mrs. Mellark and looks at me with disdain and a touch of jealousy from all the attention her husband is giving me.

"Where's Prim and your mother?" Rye asks with a frown. He- unlike his brother- is unwed.

"Um, across the street I guess. Eating dinner I presume."

"I haven't seen Primmy in forever! I'm gonna go get her!" He yells as he runs out, having the energy of a toddler. I smile at his interest in my sister, eyebrows lifted.

Mr. Mellark follows his other sons into the kitchen so I'm just left with the two women who kinda, sorta hate my guts. I give them a small smile, not even they can ruin my good mood. But that doesn't mean I'm not grateful when Rye come back, my little family in tow. Somehow including Haymitch.

He staggers in, looking surprisingly alert. I'd expected him to be drowning his sorrows right now, not happily laughing with everyone at this messed up dinner party. Prim, immediately after greeting everyone, flocks to the kitchen and I decide to follow her, anything to get away from _that_ disaster.

Peeta asks me to bring the food into the dining room and I can't help but think It's probably much better now that I'm not involved in the cooking process. I set down the plates of food, Loraria Graham's wife- sits proper and perfect sitting beside Mrs. Mellark and Prim. I wonder, for probably the millionth time since Peeta confessed his love for me- _why_? Why does he love me and not some pretty town girl like Loraria? It doesn't make much sense to me. And a moment later, when he sneaks up behind me and plants a kiss on my cheek, I jump and my stomach flutters pleasantly.

Throughout dinner, I get distracted, thinking. His hand is in mine and it has an _effect_. Everywhere he touches causes warmth to spread into my bones and I can't help but think of my dream and what it'd be like to be with him. I try to make it go away but then I just think of it more and soon I'm just wondering what his hands would feel like in other places.


End file.
